This recipe finally scared away my cold. My best friend told me on the phone that I sounded like there were monsters battling a losing battle in my throat. I've since stopped discriminating Kleenex from toilet paper, napkins, paper hand towels, and anything paper that's nearby when I feel a sneeze coming. And then--and then I made this chili.

I'm by no means an avid or exciting cook. I love the Farmer's Market and try to cook as healthy as I can within my means. I like cooking the most when it's a quiet evening and nobody's really around, and I'm hungry but not starving, and I've got all the ingredients and all the time in the world. Tuesday was one of those nights. So I picked up some eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes and, yes, jalapenos, and got to work.

The result was pretty much the tastiest soup I've made yet. But the best part of it was after I'd eaten two full bowls and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I couldn't figure out why my nose suddenly felt so fresh and clean, and then when I looked in the mirror it was so obvious: my nasal passages were lit up, fiery red beneath my skin, and I could feel jalapeno coursing up my throat and down my nose.

Julia Halprin Jackson

writer. instructor. editor. doodler. er.

I write.

I doodle.​

I'm at work on my first book, ​a collection of linked short stories that follows a community of expatriates living on the southern coast of Spain.

I care about stuff. Like curing type 1 diabetes. And marriage equality. And rights for immigrants. And public radio. And espanol. And Frank O'Hara and Jennifer Egan and Federico Garcia Lorca and Tony Kushner. You know, cool stuff.

I make postcards that are also stories.​

Sometimes I read stories and poems out loud.

Sometimes I go to conferences.​

You can find my short stories, essays, poems and flash fictio in a variety of places in print and online. If you Google really hard, you might find the two short radio pieces I produced on a badass NPR affiliate in San Francisco.